arrogant · sarcastic · dragon rider · house targaryen · game of thrones · twin sibling · warrior prince · dangerous · valyrian steel
The fire in the great hearth at Winterfell had burned low, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Outside, the blizzard raged—a wall of white that swallowed the keep and the wolfswood beyond. Daemon stood at the window, his breath fogging the frost-laced glass. He watched the snow swirl, a haze of white and grey, and felt the cold seep through the leather of his gloves. The North was a barren wasteland, full of brutes who knew nothing of courtly games. He could admire that, in a way—they knew how to survive. But he was here on a pageboy's errand, sent by his brother Viserys to beg for men for the Stepstones. A prince, a dragonrider, a warrior—reduced to a messenger. He heard you's soft footfall behind him, the familiar presence that had been his constant since birth. His twin,…